Suffering in Silence
by RedZipBoots
Summary: Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry make a (temporary) lifestyle change.


Turning up the collar of his sheepskin jacket against the icy wind coming off the mountain, Kid Curry emerged from the livery stable onto the snow-dusted street. He glanced skyward. There was more snow in the dense grey clouds overhead, an awful lot — he was willing to bet his last dime on that. He could only hope that the documents they had been sent here to collect would be ready by morning so that he and his partner could beat a rapid trail to Porterville in time to celebrate Christmas with their friend and mentor, Sheriff Lom Trevors, before the bad weather set in.

Ever since they had received a telegraph from Lom detailing the job and issuing an invitation to join him at home for the holidays, Kid had been looking forward to a festive table set for three; imagining it groaning under the weight of venison or maybe a goose, together with plum pudding, mincemeat pie, gingerbread, nuts and candy, not forgetting a bottle or two of good corn whiskey. He certainly didn't want to get snowed in here.

The small town of Silence, Nebraska, was currently living up to its name. Despite it being the middle of the afternoon there was nobody on the street and the livery owner had uttered barely more than a dozen words to him.

Pushing open the door to the saloon Curry was only mildly surprised to see that the bar room was empty except for the barman and his partner, Hannibal Heyes, who was seated at a table with two glasses of beer in front of him and a gloomy look on his face.

Kid took a seat. "Thanks," he said, acknowledging the full glass that Heyes silently pushed across the table. Leaning forward Kid hissed, "We ain't been in town more 'n ten minutes, Heyes. What's eatin' ya?"

The former outlaw leader regarded him steadily from beneath the brim of his hat. "You'll see."

Kid rolled his eyes at his partner's cryptic comment and took a large mouthful of beer which he promptly sprayed all over the table in front of him. _"_ What the...? _That ain't beer!"_

"It's ginger beer — the only kind they serve here," Heyes replied with a tight smile.

Kid wiped his mouth with the back of his gloved hand. "I'll go get us a couple of whiskeys."

"Don't waste your time, they don't have any."

"No whiskey?"

"Nope. No liquor at all."

"So what's in those bottles over there behind the bar?"

"I'm guessing coloured water." Heyes picked up his glass and aimed a disgusted look at the contents. "What's even worse, there's no poker. Look." He pointed to a sign on the wall which stated unequivocally, _No gambling.  
_  
"Well, that explains the sour look on your face."

"You're about to get one yourself, Kid. There are no saloon gals, neither."

"Aaw, no! What sorta place has Lom sent us to?" groaned Kid.

Heyes shrugged and wrinkled his nose as he took a mouthful of his 'beer'.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Small snowflakes were falling from a leaden sky, blown by the strengthening wind to fill the frozen wagon ruts along the main street when, less than ten minutes later, the two men exited the saloon leaving their drinks on the table. They stood on the boardwalk and shivered.

"There," said Kid, pointing to what appeared to be the only cafe in town. "That's what we need. How's about I buy us a steak dinner and a hot cup of coffee?"

At the mention of coffee Heyes' face lit up and he slapped his partner on the back. "Now you're talkin'!"

The welcoming glow of recently lit lanterns together with the silvery tinkle of a bell greeted the two ex-outlaws as they stepped inside. Exactly like the saloon, the cafe was completely devoid of customers. Spying a small pot belly stove in the corner they sat down at a table as close to it as possible at the same moment a woman emerged from the kitchen.

"Af'noon, ma'am," said Kid, pleasantly, taking off his hat and dropping it on the table. "We'd like two of your biggest steaks with all the fixin's, please."

"And two cups of coffee, as hot as you can make it," added Heyes, pulling off his gloves and tossing them into his upturned hat.

"You two fellas are from outta town, ain't ya?"

The partners' eyes met.

"That's right, ma'am," replied Heyes, using his most charming smile — the one which always got him exactly what he wanted when it came to women, well... waitresses, anyway. "Now about that coffee..."

"We ain't got coffee."

Brown eyes widened in surprise. "No coffee? Well, what do you have?"

"We got cold water. And we got hot water."

Heyes and Curry exchanged a worried glance.

The woman sighed heavily. "While you're decidin', I'll tell ya what's on the bill o' fare for today."

"The steaks will do just fine, ma'am," Kid confirmed.

"Ain't got steak. Like I said, I'll tell ya what we got."

Both men gave her their undivided attention.

"Today we got black beans and we got white beans, we got peas, we got potatoes, we got corn," she recited.

There were a few seconds silence as Heyes and Curry waited for the rest.

"So? What do you wanna eat?"

"Is that _all_?" Kid asked. "No pork or chicken? Buffalo stew, even?"

"We don't serve up no dead critters."

"No dead critters," echoed Curry who was trying hard to grasp the idea of a cafe not serving meat of any kind. "You got eggs though."

The woman shook her head. "They's still critters."

Sensing that it would not be long before his blond-haired partner started to get proddy Heyes quickly intervened. "Tell you what, ma'am, bring us two plates with a little of everything..."

"Make mine _a lot_ of everything," interjected Kid.

"... and two cups of hot water, please," finished Heyes.

Once the woman had returned to the kitchen, Kid leaned toward his partner murmuring through gritted teeth. "We must be all-kinds-a-crazy comin' all the way to Nebraska in the winter for some lousy documents. What if we get snowed in?"

"It's a risk, Kid, but we knew that when we agreed to do it. And Lom did say it was real important. Might even help with the amnesty."

"Yeah, well... I'm startin' to think Lom might be playin' some kinda sick joke on us."

"I don't think he's got the time to think up a joke this good," replied Heyes. "Heck, even _I_ couldn't think up one this good!"

"You'd better be right, Heyes." Kid's eyes were as cold as the wind outside. "Coz if I find out he's behind all this..." His right hand unconsciously balled into a fist. "Well, let's just say Porterville will be needing a new sheriff and we'll be lookin' for somebody else to do our talkin' with the Governor. Somebody who don't play _blame fool jokes_!"

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Having pulled his hat down firmly against the heavy, driving snow Kid Curry stomped several paces ahead of his partner across the street to the hotel. Accompanied by a flurry of snowflakes he entered the lobby and proceeded to repeatedly hit the bell on the front desk. Heyes quickly closed the door against the elements then stilled his partner's hand by covering it with his own. "C'mon now, it wasn't that bad," he placated.

In answer to Kid's incessant ringing, a clerk emerged from the office. "Can I help you, gentlemen?"

"This is a hotel, ain't it?" demanded Kid. "I know that's what the sign says, but I wanna make _real sure_."

"Yes, sir. This is a hotel."

"And you got rooms? Rooms with floors and walls and ceilings, an' all?"

"Of course."

"And furniture — like beds? ' _Specially beds!_ "

Seeing the increasing look of alarm in the clerk's eyes Heyes gently eased the gunman away from the desk.

"What my friend is trying to say," he said, calmly, "is we would like a room, on the second floor, overlooking the street." Sensing his partner take a step forward behind him Heyes added, "Uh... w-with beds."

"We happen to have a very nice room on the second floor, sir; it even has its own wood-burning stove. The charge is six-bits a night or four dollars a week. Our kitchen has no cook at the moment but the cafe across the street will provide all your meals."

From over his shoulder Heyes heard an indignant "Pfftt, meals!" Without bothering to turn round he pulled some coins from his coat pocket and tossed them on the counter. "We'll take it."

"Wood for the stove is a dollar extra," said the clerk, but noting the Kid's narrowed eyes and his right hand hovering near the tied down holster added, "But complimentary for guests over the holidays."

Heyes hastily scribbled their names in the register and snatching the proffered room key steered Kid up the stairs.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Half an hour later and Curry had still not stopped complaining. He paced the wooden floorboards, giving one of the beds a kick from time to time.

"I don't believe it, Heyes. Beans! What do we eat every single day when we're out on the trail? Beans! What are we gonna eat here in this town? _Beans!_ Then, as if having no steak weren't bad enough, there was no pie for dessert. What kind of cafe don't have pie? And, even if there had been pie, there wouldn't have been no cream to go with it, 'cause cream comes from milk and milk comes from _a critter!_ "

From where he lay on his bed Heyes attempted to mollify his irate partner. "Look, things ain't all that bad. We've got a nice warm room, the beds are comfortable, and I have a new pack of cards right over there in my coat pocket."

"Oh, wonderful. You can spend hours beating me at blackjack." Kid's caustic comment was followed by another kick and more pacing as he continued to grumble. "No beer, no whiskey, no girls, no coffee and no meat."

"You left out 'no poker', that time."

"Funny, Heyes, real funny."

With a sigh Hannibal Heyes sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Cool down, Kid, you won't have to suffer it for long. After breakfast... well, as soon as that land office opens in the morning we'll go collect those papers for Lom and get outta here, fast."

"Have you seen the snow outside?" griped Curry. "We ain't goin' nowhere, fast."

"There is a bright side to our situation." Heyes made another attempt to put a positive spin on things.

Kid shot a sceptical sideways glare at his partner. "Yeah? What?"

"We don't know the sheriff here. Lom was sure of that."

"That's somethin', I suppose," Kid agreed, grudgingly.

"It sure is, and I'm willing to bet the whole time we're here we won't run into him. Not even once."

A loud knock halted the conversation.

Kid's shoulders sagged as he looked at the door and groaned. "Aaww no, that better not be the—"

"Sheriff!" announced Heyes with a forced smile as he swung open the door to a man sporting a shiny silver star pinned to his heavy winter coat. "Can we help you with something?"

"Heard we had us some new folks in town," the lawman said, dourly. "Whatcha doin' here?"

"We've got business to attend to at the land office. Important business for Sheriff Lom Trevors over in Porterville," answered Heyes. "Then we'll be on our way."

"Trevors, you say?"

"That's right, Sheriff."

The Sheriff slapped his hat against his leg leaving tiny puddles of melted snow scattered all over the floor.

He shook his head. "It's snowin' real bad out there. The pass'll be blocked afore first light; won't clear for a couple o' weeks, if'n we don't get another fall. You fellas got names?"

"I'm Joshua Smith and that's my partner, Thaddeus Jones." Heyes flipped his thumb over his shoulder toward his proddy partner who raised an apathetic hand in greeting.

"Well, Mister Smith, Mister Jones, it looks like you'll be stoppin' a while so I'll just be takin' those shootin' irons offa ya. You can come get them when y'all head out."

With an inward sigh of resignation Heyes unhooked his gun belt from where it hung on the bedpost. He knew only too well that his partner's mood would certainly not improve now he was being parted from his precious Colt. "Thaddeus?" he said, inclining his head toward the man standing in the doorway.

His jaw set like iron and his blue eyes almost grey with fury, Kid Curry unstrapped his rig and held it out at arm's length. Heyes grabbed it and handed both belts over to the lawman.

Once the door was closed and the sound of the sheriff's footsteps had disappeared down the hallway Heyes leaned his back against the door. "He's gonna be checkin' us out with Lom as soon as that telegraph office opens."

Kid sat down on one of a pair of wooden chairs next to the stove. "Y' know what I think, Heyes?"

"What?"

"I think Lom's testing us."

"That's not what you said a couple of hours ago and I seem to recall you put it a might more colourfully too."

"Yeah well, I think Lom knows that no matter how hard we try, we ain't gonna get that doggone amnesty. He's also figured we'd get snowed in here, so he's set up this whole thing to give us a taste of what it'll be like when we're locked up in the Wyoming Territorial Prison for the rest of our lives."

"Twenty years," corrected Heyes.

"Twenty years might as well _be_ the rest of our lives. They'd never let us outta there, Heyes, and you know it!"

"Okay, okay," Heyes raised both his hands in a placatory gesture. "What makes you think he's rigged it all up to feel like prison?"

"Sheesh, I can't believe that nimble brain o' yours ain't worked it out." Curry began to count off on his fingers. "We can't leave. All we got is one room. No liquor. No women. No gamblin'. Not to mention anythin' you can call real food. And now, no guns. Every single day we're stuck here is gonna be exactly the same, _even Christmas!_ "

A hefty kick sent the second chair skidding across the floor.

Heyes opened his mouth in an attempt to give further solace but having had little success so far in calming his friend, changed his mind and closed it again. Although he didn't agree with the Kid's conclusion he had to agree there were similarities. Resuming his place on the bed, he slung an arm across his eyes and groaned. The thought of spending any part of the festive season here in Silence was not very appealing and with the Kid in this frame of mind it promised to be anything but festive — or silent. With little to do, not even their guns to clean, the proddy gunman would have nothing to distract him meaning he would no doubt work himself up into quite a conniption over the coming days.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Several weeks later...

Hannibal Heyes jumped from his saddle, threw his reins in the general direction of the hitching rail and rushed inside the Porterville Sheriff's Office.

Sheriff Trevors looked up from his paperwork and with a broad smile stood to greet his friend. "Heyes! It's good to see you. I was sorry to hear you got snowed in over the holidays."

Heyes ignored the Sheriff's outstretched hand and, while glancing nervously back over his shoulder toward the door, spoke rapidly. "Look Lom, I haven't time to explain but, whatever you do, _don't_..."

"Howdy, Kid!" Lom turned his attention to the blond as he strode purposefully toward him. "How was Christm—?"

The punch made Lom stagger backwards, clutching his jaw.

Heyes winced, "... mention Christmas."


End file.
